Witch's Canyon by Jeff Mariotte

Author:Jeff Mariotte [Mariotte, Jeff]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Published: 2011-10-24T03:09:32.116000+00:00

TWENT Y-TWO

“Lower your weapon, Grampa,” Dean said. “We just want to talk to you.” He wasn’t sure if that was true, but it seemed like the right thing to say. He was tired of civilians pointing guns at him.

“And those sirens I’m hearin’, boy, they’re just the wind in the trees? Do you think I’m some kind of an idiot? I still got all of my senses, including hearin’

and common sense.”

“I’m sure you do,” Sam put in. “Believe us, we don’t want to be here when the sheriff gets here, either. We’d rather be long gone, but with you along for the ride.”

“Why? What’ve you got to say to me, stripling?”

“You’re not behind these attacks, are you?” Dean said. The more he watched the old guy, the more convinced he was that the man was nothing but human. He wasn’t flickering or vanishing from sight, and Witch’s

Can

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yon

although he was dressed oddly—a little like Elmer Fudd on a wabbit-hunting expedition, in fact—he wasn’t the soldier they had seen at the mall. “You’re trying to stop them. So are we. I think we’ll all do better if we can compare notes.”

“And why should I believe that? Answer me that one if you can.”

“Do we look like Indians, or bears, or soldiers, or whatever to you?” Desperate, Dean zipped his leather jacket up and then unzipped it again. “Have you ever seen one of those creatures wearing a modern leather jacket with a zipper?”

The old man narrowed his eyes even more than they already were—just tiny black balls behind fl eshy folds—and peered at Dean’s jacket. He came a few steps closer, pushing through the underbrush, his rifle held out before him. What Dean thought he had seen at first glance now proved correct—the guy’s coat was belted shut, and jammed under the belt was a small hatchet. A smell like old cheese wafted off him in waves. His breathing was ragged and wet, as if he had fluid built up in his lungs. Guy’s got to be at least ninety, Dean thought. Unless he’s thirty-fi ve and lives really hard. Still, for such an old coot, he got around well. He had, after all, managed to elude him, Sam, and every cop in town until now.

“Sir, all we want is to talk to you, compare notes,”

Sam said. “But if we’re not out of here by the time those sirens arrive, we won’t have the chance.”

The old guy looked confused, or maybe uncertain—

Dean didn’t know how to read his ancient, creased 186 SUPERNATURAL

face. His mouth was open a little, with a wedge of pink tongue flitting out and running across his lips. Those BB eyes twitched back and forth. His chin quivered a little, but that might have been because all of him was locked in a state of continual tremor. Dean hadn’t minded landing on the kid before. It had been kind of a shame to dent the hood of that old wagon, but at least he hadn’t dented the Impala—that would have required a more punitive beating.

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